Those Tasteful Shades of Green
by ScarletDrizzle
Summary: Playing the waiting game on a cold metal bench was definitely not how Mio had expected her Saturday night to go. There was supposed to be excitement and happiness in the air! She was supposed to feel worry-free! And yet there she was against all odds, playing all or nothing against the bitter reality of war and love. Mitsu/AU. A painstakingly delivered B-day present for Mio-chan.


**A/N: Well, guys, it's that time of the year again: MI-TSU EX-PLO-SION! Goddamn, are you feeling the deja vu here? Because I'm pretty sure I did this whole birthday thing just a few months ago... Can't fictional characters just stop growing?**

**Regardless of my sentiments, however, I'd just like to say: Happy 22nd Birthday, Mio! May you have many more and all that. **(You're immortal, really, so I'm guessing this is going to turn a bit repetitive by the 50th...)

**This little one-shot right here is my frilly, colorful present for the adorable Mio! And since she's my favorite character from the anime **(Ritsu reigns supreme in the manga)**,** **I managed to up the frilly-ness from my usual formula! :D **

**Warnings: No BETA; AU and possibly OOC **(depends on how mature you consider their adult selves)**; A bit of blood; emotionally unstable melodrama; Moderate femmeslash.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Those Tasteful Shades of Green<strong>

Disclaimer: I do not own _K-On!_ or any of its characters**.**

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><p>Stormy grey eyes gazed down at the floor underneath them, feeling paralyzed with dread where they sat. The seated girl's pale hands shivered in the prickly cool air conditioning, and she inwardly cursed at herself for forgetting her mittens at home, before realizing it was the airport's fault for matching its temperature with the damned freezing December air. It was everybody's fault really, the girl concluded, that she was sitting there on the cold metal bench, waiting for the announcement of a certain International Flight's arrival. It was her mother's fault for being so supportive, her ex-boyfriends fault for not chasing after her when they broke up all those years ago, her childhood friends' fault for not stopping her when she needed to be stopped...<p>

It was her own fault... for falling so deeply in love.

Mio pulled the thin muffler up her nose as she blamed everyone in her heart. Everyone but that one person – whose fault it really was – came to mind as she raised her eyes from the floor, watching men and woman with grave faces drag themselves into the airport's lobby. Mio was certain that her own visage matched theirs quite nicely, and that her slightly thin fingers – now shaking akin to a coffee addict's – wouldn't have stayed still even if she'd traveled to the middle of the Sahara. She rubbed those shivering fingers together vigorously, trying to force some heat into the stubborn muscles, and stuffed them in the armpits of her coat when all else failed.

Foggy breaths dissipated into the muffler as Mio watched time pass, taking a few glances at the faces restlessly standing around the lobby – they were her comrades in a sense, her people, and yet, at the same time, they were absolute strangers. Mio chuckled at her own thoughts and pulled a hand out of its warm haven, drawing the muffler back up her nose. Her 'people' turned to stare, surprised – some of them infuriated – that she dared to let out a laugh. Most of the faces that turned were men, as the women were all too busy wiping their tears without ruining the make-up. Mio wondered why she wasn't one of them, before coming to the conclusion that her eyes had long since grown tired of producing the salty liquid.

Ha, like Hell that was possible...

Tired, stormy eyes once again looked down, this time turning their gaze to the muffler wound around their neck. It wasn't even a muffler, really... just a long, worn-out grey cloth. Mio could still see the tear stains left from her last wave of emotions, the sight she'd been looking for all long. But stormy eyes lingered on the sentimental cloth for a while longer, and considerably warmer fingers came out to stroke the rough fabric. The ravenette girl brought the grayish cloth to her nose for the umpteenth time since she'd found it delivered to her doorstep a few months ago; a red nose smelled dirt, blood, and a musky scent that Mio could never forget even if she tried. It was _her_ smell...

A small tug on the muffler drew the emotional girl out of her trance, and she realized that her eyes had unknowingly closed themselves to focus only on the stench of the old cloth. Mio turned towards the source of the pull, and saw a little boy inspecting the small blood stains on the end of her muffler. The blood wasn't hard to find along the length of the cloth, and Mio hadn't a clue as to whose it was. Regardless of her ignorance on the topic, the child in front of her asked how the deep scarlet had gotten there. He remembered his daddy teaching him how real blood differed from its fake counterparts – the color and texture of the stains for example – and could swear on his boy-scout badges that it was real! He asked the pretty ravenette lady the same question a second time, and then a third, seeing as he got no reply. But the lady just stared at him, and for a second he could've sworn he saw the ghost of a sad smile behind that dirty grey scarf of hers. But the second passed, and the lad's mommy came to pull him away, warning him not to talk to strangers, and then herself asking a stranger for a spare handkerchief. What a hypocrite...

Mio silently watched the young boy being dragged away, sparing a glance at the mother's tear-streaked face, before glancing back at the innocent soul. Rose lips smiled a second time at the boy – envying him yet pitying him at the same time – before Mio directed herself to the stain of red that had attracted his attention. She stroked the cool, stained fabric, wondering who the stains belonged to. Was it _her_ blood, maybe? An enemy's? A comrade's? With dry lips all too tired of staying shut, Mio opened her warm mouth the slightest – feeling the freezing air attack her inner cheeks – and let a hoarse, cracking voice answer the boy's long forgotten question...

"War."

That one whisper almost doubled her over, and Mio felt the growing sting behind her eyes as she covered them with her hands. Her body shook once, twice, and silent tearless sobs informed her that her eyes might truly have grown tired of producing tears.

The shaking form could all but feel the stares on her back, and the cutting sensation of the pity they all surely held. But the girl couldn't find it in her to care about them – or anything, really. Choking back dry sobs as she shivered from the persistent cold, Mio just wanted it all to end. She wanted the wars to be done with, and the guns to be lowered. She _craved_ the return of the warmth and happiness that was on stake – not only for her, but also for the tens of families that were gathered right next to her. The girl was at her wit's end, having had enough of the fear – the dread – that had been haunting her ever since the start of winter, when she had lost contact with her one and only. Mio was done with just _waiting..._

...Waiting for Ritsu to come back.

Tearless snivels were interrupted by the intercom's booming voice, and Mio gracefully attempted to recollect herself as she heard her 'comrades' buzz with tense conversation. Sleepless eyes trailed towards the airport's 'Arrivals' screen, and Mio all but leapt from the bench she was seated on at the sight. She looked at the screen once more, and squinted her bad eye to make sure it wasn't playing any tricks. But the words weren't changing from "At Home" no matter how hard she tried, and Mio very nearly sprinted to the entry gates when the roaring intercom verified her uncertainties... They were back! All the ones that had survived at the very least, and even parts of those that hadn't – they were all back.

Mio stood close to the cold metal bar separating the homeward from the greeters, praying to a God she barely held faith in. Wishing, hoping, that the face she hadn't seen in close to a year still breathed in the same air she did. She prayed that those slightly tan fingers – the same ones that had nervously slipped a diamond ring onto hers – weren't pumping cold blood in her wake. No, Ritsu _had _to be alive. Mio wouldn't accept it otherwise!

Her anxious heart sped its beating as the first of the uniforms rolled in through the gates. Mio's eyes didn't linger on anyone but her promised, and as she searched and searched for those tasteful shades of green which she had folded into a suitcase just a year ago, those same eyes began to sting again. Reality slowly kicked in to the girl wearing a bloody, battle-worn muffler, and she tried to zone out the screams of happiness coming from the families of the soldiers around her, trying to calm her mind's conclusions about the ongoing wait. She'd inwardly declared it before and she'd do it again: Ritsu _had _to have made it – she must have! But as the mops of hair that came through those damned gates weren't the sandy brown ones she sought – and that too for a good ten minutes – the ravenette felt her stomach drop more than it ever had on the terrifying roller-coasters Ritsu loved to drag her to.

As she saw the incoming shades of green slowly dwindle to single file, Mio could feel the chyme in her stomach burn her throat, just waiting to come out. Her arms wound around herself in a protective gesture, and her body suddenly forgot its distaste for tears, making its new love for them more apparent. A few minutes later, Mio wasn't even looking anymore; her head held in trembling hands and her mind all too busy trying to keep her from falling buttocks first to the ground.

It seemed as though the wait was all for naught...

Mio went back to her thoughts of an hour ago, blaming everyone in her life for letting her fall so irreversibly in love with a woman applying to the army. She almost heatedly blamed the nation itself for accepting Ritsu into its ranks all those years ago, but held herself just an inch back, knowing her fiancé would never have wanted blame to land on their country. Mio wondered what she'd tell her never-to-be in-laws now; what she'd tell her own parents, and her friends. Hell, the devastated girl wondered what she'd tell _herself _during dark nights, and how she could possibly survive without her second half... No, she didn't even want to _think _about surviving at the moment.

The mourning girl kept shaking with the force of her sobs, deaf to the sound of a back pack falling to the floor next to her feet. She did, however, feel the sudden warmth on her waist, where a pair of shaky hands had nervously claimed their territory. Mio's heart leapt to her throat at the familiar way of being held, and as she looked up from her hands for the first time in minutes, grey eyes finally landed on amber ones.

"Sorry I'm late..." The figure tried to casually speak, but the words caught in her throat and barely came out in a whisper, "Colonel had a few things to settle." Ritsu smiled into the grey eyes she'd dreamt of each night, and gently wiped the tears making their way down those rosy cheeks. Although she made sure to get each droplet, the liquid kept coming from the frozen girl's orbs. The soldier frowned the slightest as she kept wiping the still figure, and recalled how she'd seen her love sobbing to herself before as well. With a caress along her fiancé's cheek, Ritsu felt pained to think that she'd been the cause of Mio's tears. It was her job to wipe them off the second they appeared – as she continued to do to the stubbornly moist cheeks – but she should never have to be a cause for them...

The frozen girl, on the other hand, was still too shocked to speak, and wondered for a second if she had either fainted or lost her marbles. But the feel of calloused fingers caressing her face after a year of absence, and the familiar scent of her lover that seemed to surround her in warmth, felt all too good to be imaginary. A genuine smile formed on rosy lips for the first time in what seemed like eternity, and the brunette's eyes instantaneously lit up upon seeing a sign of happiness on her lover. Mio was still crying though – this time in joy – and reached out to wipe Ritsu's prevalent tears as well, just as she was wiping hers. The brunette was slightly surprised at the long since present moisture that her cheeks had just registered, but was too overcome by the feel of the soft thumb wiping it away – the first lovingly gentle touch the soldier had encountered all year.

Without another second of thought, and without waiting to ascertain if her other half felt the same, Ritsu closed the gap between lips yearning to feel the other. Her impatience was well received, however; as Mio didn't mind her action the slightest, instead eagerly leaning down to meet the kiss of the shorter brunette. Their bodies felt relived after gaining contact after so long, and the pair lost themselves in their passion for each other, the tears still prevalent on their respective cheeks. Mio wound her fingers in brown hair that was a bit shorter than it had been before, and let her emotions resurface when she couldn't hold them in any longer, letting out a little sob in the long-awaited kiss.

The sobs continued for another two, and Ritsu knew well enough to stop and take her princess into her arms for all the comfort they could provide. The ravenette obliged willingly, letting her tears soak the collar of the shades of green Ritsu proudly wore. Strong, trained arms protectively wrapped themselves around their world, and Ritsu burrowed herself into the neck of her lover, inhaling the sweet scent that had been deprived of her for so long. The soldier recognizing the tattered scarf her fiancé wore, one the brunette had managed to sneak in through the mailman a few months ago, and her heart swelled at the gesture, leading her to deliver a little kiss to the nearby cheek. Lightly scarred lips smiled wider than they ever had when Ritsu heard a distant "Okairi.*" being mumbled into her uniform. The battle-hardened soldier felt her body shake the slightest, and definitely felt the sting of tears as they rained harder down her cheeks. As trigger adapted fingers ran themselves through Mio's velvety soft long hair, Ritsu whispered out the word she'd been dying to say from the second she left home:

"Tadiama...*"

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><p><em>*Okairi = "Welcome home." A greeting usually associated with housewives greeting their husbands back home.<em>

_*Tadaima = "I'm home/back." A greeting usually associated with husbands coming home from work. Response to Okairi._

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><p><strong>AN: T******his as my first attempt at the third/omniscient person** **(It was mixed, really) ****in the last four or so years.**** I'm not so sure if I'll continue with the style, but I thought this fic needed the semi-detached tone. No excuse though, constructive criticism is still wholly welcomed!****

**Imperfections:  
>1)<strong> **I'm not sure if soldiers come home in civilian planes, or whether or not the families are informed of their date of arrival.**  
><strong>2)<strong> **Secondly, the airport procedures mentioned here are probably different for you, since every country/port has there own thing going on.**  
><strong>3)<strong> **And of course,** (the cherry on top)** families _are _informed of their loved one's decease/injury regardless of civvy-soldier communication **(or lack thereof, as in this case)**, so those families mostly had no reason to feel dread or sadness.** (Unless there was some massive communication shutdown, which was not hinted at, and probably never happened.)

**I honestly think this fanfic was quite a bit sub-par as compared to my usual, what with the realism conflicts and general all-over-the-place-ness, but I'm pretty sure I won't fix these issues in any future edits. There's a beauty in an imperfect present, I feel, as long as the sentiment is present **(and it's on time, of course)**. ****So, HAPPY BIRTHDAY MIO, and maybe someday I'll humor you with the story behind the delivery of this present, and exactly why that "painstakingly" is placed in the summary. **(Let's just say that by the time this piece has been published, I'll be around 6 hours into an internet-less flight to the house of an internet-less friend...)

**Hope y'all had a good time with me, and I recommend the song "Out Alive" by Kris Allen to go along with this story,**

**_ScarletDrizzle_**


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